Hopeful
by cherry-sodas
Summary: On October 31, 1977, Elenore Winston wore her Princess Leia costume to school. [AU. Embedded into 'Arrogance and Aggression' universe. Gen-2.]


Hopeful

**Let it be known that I am beginning this story just hours after the publication of "Tired." That way, if you don't see it until June 2020, you'll know I wasn't exactly slacking (except that I totally will have been).**

**I wasn't sure that I was going to write this story, but then I figured, "Why not?" It takes place in the greater 'Arrogance and Aggression' universe and focuses on Elenore Winston, Dally and Lucy's only daughter. As we know, there's a very particular princess with whom Elenore identifies. I wanted to give her a chance to show us why she **_**wants **_**to emulate that princess, as opposed to the other princess-oriented stories here, which generally argue the opposite.**

**You might want to read my one shot "You're My Only Hope" for some context about how **_**Star Wars **_**fits into the larger second-generation narrative. There are also some hints at spoilers for Gen-3 in this story, so if you figure them out (or if I've, you know, **_**already confirmed them for you**_**), try to avoid guessing in reviews if you leave them? It's all in the game. Away we go!**

* * *

_1977_

On October 31, 1977, Elenore Winston wore her Princess Leia costume to school.

"But I don't _understand_," she said as her mother, Lucy, helped her to pull a fall jacket over her white dress before her father could walk her to school that morning. "Why didn't I get to buy an official Princess Leia costume by Ben Cooper? Everyone else dressed like a _Star Wars _character is gonna have one!"

"If there's more than one kid at your school dressed as a _Star Wars _character, we're gonna have a problem," Elenore's father said.

"Dally," Lucy warned him.

"What? I just meant I don't want them takin' our kid's thunder."

"Mom," Elenore said. "I don't want to look like the only dork in the whole school."

Dally had to excuse himself from taking a crack at that one. Lucy told him he needed to hide his contempt for all things _Star Wars _for as long as Elenore was still a little girl. It meant too much to her that she could count on him to watch that movie with her.

"How could you ever look like a dork, Elenore?" Lucy asked. "You're so beautiful. You look like a miniature Princess Leia any day of the week, even without the costume."

"But the costume makes me look cheap."

"Don't say that, kid," Dally said, feeling ready enough to come back into the living room. "Your ma and I spent good money on the fabric to make you this dress. We spent even better money gettin' a seamstress to make it for ya 'cause your ma never took home ec."

"My time was better suited elsewhere," Lucy said. "Besides, I got married at the beginning of my senior year in high school. I didn't need to take home ec. I lived it."

"Just barely."

"Oh, you, hush."

Lucy turned to Elenore and tried her best to be sympathetic. Elenore sighed. She loved her mother dearly, but once Elenore had entered school, it wasn't hard for her to recognize that her mother was different than most of the other mothers. Where the other mothers would sweep their children up into hugs and flower bouquets even after the simplest of Christmas concerts, Elenore's mother would tell her, "Nice work, Elenore. I liked 'Jingle Bells.' Everything else … we could have a word or two with your music teacher about the kind of arrangements she's choosing." Then she would take her out for ice cream to celebrate the end of another Christmas in a foul-smelling school gymnasium and an itchy dress. Elenore knew that her mother loved her. It just wasn't the same as the soft and cushy mothers in the same class.

"You really wanna know why you're not allowed to wear the Ben Cooper costume?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," Elenore said. "I really wanna know."

Lucy sighed. Dally looked at her as if to remind her that this would be, in fact, _her _funeral.

"I saw the official Ben Cooper costume at the store a little while back," Lucy said. "And it looks like absolute garbage. No daughter of mine is going to walk around school looking like absolute garbage, Elenore."

"But …"

"They're just walking movie posters. They're not costumes. Costumes speak for themselves. And the masks …"

"Everyone else is going to have a mask!"

"Why?" Dally asked. "Is everyone is trying to avoid some sickness that's gonna kill 'em?"

"No, Dad," Elenore said. "It just makes you look cool – like you're really the character behind the costume – the _official _Ben Cooper costume, thank you very much."

"Elenore, I wouldn't lie to you," Lucy said. "Those costumes are _tacky_. They don't even give any indication you're supposed to be Princess Leia, apart from the uncanny mask. You saw the little dress when we went to the store! It's not even all white! It's got blue and red dots all over it … and that _logo_! It's got Luke Skywalker with his shirt torn open, and he's _ripped_!"

"What does _ripped _mean?" Elenore asked.

"It's everything Space Pony isn't," Dally said.

Elenore turned back around to her mother, exasperated.

"But I don't want people to think I look silly," Elenore said.

"Honey, I can't control what people are going to say," Lucy said. "But I do know that this was the right way to go. You look just like Princess Leia. And when you and your friends take pictures today, and decades later, they pull them out to show people, they'll all say the same thing: 'We wish we'd have gone the Elenore Winston route. She looks timeless.'"

"I don't think they will," Elenore said.

"Well, too bad. I've got incredible foresight."

"It's true," Dally added. "One time she told me she was gonna bop me on the head with a rolled up magazine for cursin' in front of you, and then, she went ahead and did it."

"That's not foresight," Elenore said. "That's autonomy."

"How the hell do you know these fancy words, man?" Dally asked. "You're ten."

Lucy grabbed Elenore's brown-bagged lunch and handed it to her. She walked over to her husband and quickly kissed him, almost as though it was a quotidian chore.

"Because she has supremely intelligent parents," Lucy said. "She's genetically predisposed to genius."

"And I understood every word of that sentence," Elenore piped up.

"We know," Lucy said and kissed her daughter on the top of her head. "Now, get to school. We promise the whole costume thing will make as much sense as your vocabulary eventually."

Elenore followed her father out the door. They were quiet for a little while on this, their daily walk to Elenore's elementary school. After a couple of minutes, Elenore began to speak again.

"Do you think Mom is right?" she asked.

"I think your mom is always right," Dally said. "It's part-a why we been married for twelve years comin' up."

"But is she right about the costume? That I'll look back and think I looked better than the kids who got their costumes from the store?"

"What part of 'I think your mom is always right' don't you understand, man?"

"Dad. Please."

Dally sighed. He'd been getting better at these one-on-one talks with Elenore. For a reason he'd never really understand until Elenore was much older than ten, his daughter seemed to really like him. He figured by now she would have figured out that he was a sad, sorry excuse for a man – a no-count hood in the disguise of a husband and a father. But she was ten years old, and when she looked at him, she still saw a good man. When she looked at him now, he was just Daddy-Wan Kenobi.

"I think you look real pretty, kid," Dally said. "Even if y'are wearin' your hair like a couple of cinnamon rolls on the side of your head. By the way, how did your mom get your hair to go like that? Looks tough, if ya ask me."

"She had to call Jane in Tulsa," Elenore explained. "It was a painstaking process, but we got through it. Good thing Mom doesn't teach today."

"Yeah. Good thing."

They were quiet for a little while longer, and then Elenore spoke again. She'd been holding in the story for a long time, but that morning, inspired by her homemade Princess Leia gown and cinnamon buns for hair, she figured she might as well let it go. There was no one she trusted more with it than her father, after all.

"Did I ever tell you about that time last year when I said I thought I looked pretty?" she asked, fully aware she'd never told a soul.

"I don't think so," Dally said. "You gonna tell me or leave me hangin'?"

"It was school picture day, and I was wearing that blue dress. You know, the one Sadie and Johnny got me for my birthday when we went to visit them in the spring?"

"Yeah. Johnny picked it out himself."

Dally almost smiled. He remembered it well. Johnny had been so proud to pick that dress out from a lineup. He'd been even prouder that Elenore liked it so much. Even now that he was a man, he was still a good kid.

"Well, after we took pictures, I was walking back to the classroom with CeCe and this other girl, Patty. And I said something like, 'I'm glad I wore this dress because it makes me look pretty.' And Patty laughed and said, 'You're not supposed to say things like that about yourself.'"

And though it rarely ever happened, Dallas Winston was floored. He never expected to have a conversation like this with his own daughter. He thought maybe Johnny would have talks like this with Rosemary when she got older. Maybe Darry would have a similar conversation with Willow, especially given Lynnie's own history with beauty. But Elenore? Lucy's daughter? _His _daughter? He didn't buy it. It couldn't be.

"What do you think she meant by that?" Elenore asked. "Did she really mean I'm not allowed to think or say good things about myself?"

Dally sighed. He wasn't sure if there was any one right thing to say, so he just spoke. After all, Elenore was smart enough to listen.

"I think she just ain't got a clue, kid," Dally said. "Lots-a people run around thinkin' they need somebody else to tell 'em they're hot shit. You ain't gotta be like that. Me and your mom … we don't want you to go around thinkin' ya gotta wait on somebody else's compliments. Ya got me?"

"Really?" Elenore asked. "But you and Mom give me plenty of compliments."

"And would you not think you were smart if your mom and me never told you?"

"Well … I guess I would still have some idea … or something."

"You're damn right. That's 'cause you're smart. Look, it's nice to be told you're doin' something good. But if ya spend your whole life waitin' for somebody to tell ya … look, it's just important you know things on the inside."

"How come?"

"'Cause ya gotta be with yourself all the time. If you ain't thinkin' good stuff about yourself, who else is gonna?"

Elenore nodded. In part, it made sense, but mostly, she was confused. Maybe it was the cinnamon buns for hair. Maybe they were messing with her ability to hear. Then again, she'd heard the construction workers on the previous block yelling racially insensitive things at one another just fine, so she wasn't really sure why she was mixed up.

"Why will it only make sense eventually?" Elenore asked.

"Huh?"

"Like what Mom said. She said that my thing about the costume would only make sense eventually. Why won't it make sense now? I'm smart. Just last week I finished reading _Frankenstein_. Did you know that the _doctor _is the monster?"

Dally concealed a smile and kept walking with his kid – _his kid_, who was so much better than he could have possibly imagined.

"You're real smart, Elenore," he said. "You're real good at readin' and learnin' new words."

"I'm not shit in math."

"Don't say _shit_."

"Why? You do, and it's just the two of us."

"And the rest of the Village."

"They're not paying attention. This is New York City, baby."

Dally fought the urge against another smile. Elenore was good at that.

"Look, you're the smartest kid I ever knew," Dally said. "And your ma's right. It's 'cause you got the two of us for folks. But just 'cause you're real good at readin' books and memorizin' the stuff in 'em don't mean you know everything. There's some stuff you can't know 'cause you're only ten years old."

"But …"

"It's not about understandin' big words and ideas, baby girl. It's about … it's just about bein' alive and learnin' about yourself. I'm tellin' ya, if your mom hadn't started givin' me shit at exactly the moment she started givin' me shit, I don't think I'd be here right now."

"Where would you be?"

Dally pictured an unmarked shallow grave in the cemetery where Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were buried. Then he pictured the fire. But it wasn't like he could tell Elenore about any of that – not when she was dressed like Princess Leia on Halloween, looking up at her old man like he was something worth admiring. That Elenore. She was nothing if not hopeful.

"I dunno," Dally finally said. "Look, kid, all I'm tryin' to say is that ya learn by experience no matter how much time ya spend behind a book. There's stuff you don't get 'cause you're ten, and you don't know what it means to be twenty. You don't even know what it means to be eleven."

"I will soon," Elenore insisted. "My birthday is in less than six months."

"You bet it is."

"And then I'll know more things?"

"Sure will."

They arrived in front of the school, and before she could head inside, Elenore turned to her father one last time.

"You know," she said. "I'm already sort of glad that Mom made this Princess Leia costume from real white fabric."

This time, Dally went ahead and smiled.

"Oh, really?" he asked.

"Yeah," Elenore said.

"And why is that?"

"Well, I look more like her. And if I look more like her, then I have a better chance of being like her. And I want to be like Princess Leia. She's tough, and she's cool. And she never loses hope."

"That's true," Dally said. He'd seen the movie seven times, after all. "What's makin' you say that all of a sudden?"

"I'm looking around at some of the other kids in my class," Elenore said. "None of them are wearing costumes. I guess fourth grade is the last year where wearing costumes to school is socially acceptable."

Sure enough, there were a bunch of recognizable fifth graders in the front yard of the school, wearing street clothes. They were a far cry from Elenore in her Princess Leia threads and cinnamon bun hair. She turned back around and faced her father, a little nervousness in her dark blue eyes.

"You OK?" Dally asked. "Ya wanna change? I know they make ya keep a change of clothes in your gym locker if ya need 'em."

"They do," Elenore said. "But I think I'm gonna be Princess Leia today."

Dally was surprised. "Really?"

Elenore nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "I meant what I said a minute ago. She's tough, and she's cool. And she never loses hope. So, I can't either. I have to have hope that even if I'm right, and I'm the only fifth grader wearing a Halloween costume at school today, I'll be one of the cool kids for following my own heart."

Dally tried to smile, but he almost laughed instead. How could it be that Elenore – his tough and cool daughter – was sounding so much like Ponyboy Curtis?

"You go for it, kid," he said. "Lemme know how it goes when ya get home."

"You got it," Elenore said. "Thanks for walking me to school, Daddy-Wan Kenobi."

"Any time, Highness."

When Elenore walked into school that day, she was in fact the only fifth grader with a Halloween costume on. She was embarrassed for a moment, but she was ultimately thankful that her cinnamon buns hid her blushed. Then, she realized there was nothing to be embarrassed about. There was no one cooler than Princess Leia. There was no one else she'd rather be like. Princess Leia made her hopeful that at the end of the day, everything was going to be OK – more than OK.

But if the day could have gone by a little bit faster, Elenore certainly wouldn't have complained.

* * *

_1980_

On September 1, 1980, Elenore Winston was thrilled to death to be starting eighth grade.

"I don't get it, man," Dally said as the family sat down for dinner on the last night of Elenore's summer vacation. "Ain't it just another grade?"

"_Dad_, not at _all_," Elenore said. "Eighth grade is the top of the junior high food chain. You get to walk through the halls and shout, 'EIGHTH GRADE!' And all the younger kids have to part the hallway waters for you because you're in eighth grade, and for that, you win."

"Mmm, no," Lucy said between a forkful of macaroni and cheese. "Only assholes do that. My daughter is not an asshole."

"Well, I'm just saying. Now I have the right."

"Having the right means having the right to abstain."

"I know that. It's not like I'd do that, anyway. I'm not one of the cool kids. Besides, CeCe and I will probably spend most of the days doing our bits where she's Han Solo, and I'm Princess Leia. We won't have time for such obnoxious antics."

Lucy and Dally exchanged worried glances, and Elenore pretended not to notice them. It wasn't that they were worried that their daughter was turning fourteen, and she was still doing _Star Wars _bits with her friend. Lucy, especially, understood that this was just a way for her daughter to express her creativity and collaborate with someone whose company she really enjoyed. The problem was that Lucy and Dally had been paying attention during the seventh grade and throughout the summer. And where CeCe had gone with Elenore to see the first _Star Wars _movie maybe ten times in 1977, by 1980, CeCe had only gone to see _The Empire Strikes Back_ with Elenore one time. Lucy and Dally feared that CeCe might be getting more and more into makeup and less and less into space operas. Elenore knew that, too, but she was in denial. If she didn't have CeCe to be her Han Solo, she'd be all alone. It would be exactly the opposite of that Halloween in the fifth grade when Elenore had walked into school as the only fifth grader in a costume. CeCe repurposed her outfit and made herself into Han Solo. From then on, Elenore figured she could count on CeCe like the sister she never had. She knew that things were changing now that CeCe was flirting with real boys at their real school (instead of just kissing pictures of Harrison Ford and Mark Hamill in the fan magazines), but she didn't want to admit it. Who would Elenore be without CeCe?

"Uh, Elenore," Dally said. "Are you sure CeCe will still wanna place space wizards with ya?"

"Han and Leia aren't _space wizards_, Dad," Elenore said. "They're people. Leia is the leader of the Rebel Alliance, and Han is an instrumental fighter in the Rebellion. Only Luke and Yoda are space wizards."

"And Obi-Wan. Don't forget about him."

"Sure. And I know that CeCe and I are getting older, but that doesn't change who we are on the inside. And on the inside, I'm sure that CeCe is just as in love with _Star Wars _and jokes about _Star Wars _as she was when we were ten years old."

Elenore was hopeful about that throughout the rest of dinner, into the night, and as she walked into her junior high building the next morning. She saw CeCe at her locker and figured she'd start one of their famous _Star Wars _bits.

"'You have your moments,'" Elenore said. "'Not many of them, but you do have them."

CeCe turned around and furrowed her brow at Elenore. Elenore was taken aback. This was the first time she'd seen CeCe with a full face of makeup. She was wearing red lipstick, and Elenore's heart was met with a pang of jealousy. That was the one thing she had to look forward to about the ninth grade. Her mother would finally let her wear lipstick, like her mother had allowed her to do at the same age. But CeCe … CeCe hardly looked like herself. She'd always been pretty with her long red hair and bright blue eyes, but now, she almost looked like she could grow up and become a model. One thing was for sure. This was not the kind of girl who could go around claiming she was Han Solo – not anymore.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "That's kind of rude, don't you think?"

Elenore turned scarlet.

"Well, I didn't mean it that way!" she said. "I meant like … you know, like Leia says to Han on the _Millennium Falcon _a little while after they kiss for the first time?"

"When did Han and Leia ever kiss?"

"In _The Empire Strikes Back_! Don't you remember?"

CeCe snapped her fingers in recognition.

"Oh, yeah!" she said. "Sorry. It's been awhile since you and I saw that movie."

"Has it?"

"Well, duh. Elenore, we went to see that movie at the end of May. It's September."

"You mean you didn't see _The Empire Strikes Back _more than once?"

"Of course not. Most people don't spend money on the same movie over and over again."

"But we did before! When _Star Wars _came out three years ago! Why wouldn't you want to do the same thing now?"

CeCe sighed. Elenore's heart dropped down to her knees. This was it. This was what her parents had tried to warn her about, and she hadn't listened. It just seemed so impossible at the dinner table the night before. But now, it was here, and Elenore felt so lost. She couldn't even try to feel hopeful.

"Look, there's something we should talk about," CeCe said. "I'm thinking about trying out for the cheerleading team."

"That's great, CeCe!" Elenore said. "I think that could be a lot of fun for you. You're already great doing cartwheels."

"And yet I could never teach you."

"I'm a special case."

CeCe smiled, but it was a sad smile – the kind that made Elenore feel sick to her stomach. She wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to lose the best friend she'd spent so long dreaming about.

"My point is this," she said. "I want to actually make it on the cheerleading team. And I'm scared I won't make it if the other cheerleaders know that I spend a good chunk of my time playing _Star Wars _games with you."

That was when Elenore's heart shattered.

"But we love _Star Wars _games," she tried. "You're my Han Solo. You've always been …"

"I know," CeCe said.

"But you don't. If you did, you'd understand the significance of what you just said."

"What did I just say?"

"'I know.'"

"What?"

"Never mind."

CeCe sighed. Elenore wanted to cover her ears. Anything else CeCe could possibly say was about to ruin her life and make her want to crawl into a hole and die. This was worse than that Halloween when she had been the only fifth grader to show up wearing a costume. At least then, CeCe had been her ally in _Star Wars _fandom. Now, she was just like anyone else. It almost seemed like CeCe was against her.

"There just comes a time when you get too old for certain stuff," CeCe explained. "And you know I got my period over the summer."

Elenore nodded. How could she have forgotten? She was the one who rushed CeCe to the showers after she'd begun to bleed after getting out of the swimming pool at the rec center. Elenore was always there for CeCe – always kind and hopeful. What was CeCe's excuse for abandoning Elenore now?

"After that, I realized I kind of need to put childish things away," CeCe said. "And I think that includes the way you and I used to play _Star Wars _games."

"But _Star Wars _is for kids of all ages," Elenore said. "That's what my mom always says, and my dad says she's always right."

"Secret to a successful marriage. These are things I just understand better now."

Elenore snorted. CeCe thought that her first period meant that she was the wisest woman who ever lived. If only she knew! Elenore had started her first period on the day before fifth grade started back in 1977, and she hadn't claimed to be some philosophical guru after that day. She was still just a kid. She was a kid who liked _Star Wars_. And now, at the height of the films' popularity, she was alone in that.

"I'm not saying we can't still be friends," CeCe said. "You're my _best _friend, and I couldn't imagine making it through eighth grade without you. But maybe if you just … you know, maybe if you wore a little blush here or there or started listening to the soundtrack from _Xanadu _instead of your parents' music or the soundtrack to _Star Wars_ …"

"I never even saw _Xanadu_!"

"Right. Because you were too busy seeing _Star Wars _at the same time."

Elenore's face fell completely.

"Why would you say it like that?" she asked. She wasn't angry. She was crushed.

"What?" CeCe asked.

"Why would you say that like it's an insult?"

CeCe exhaled deeply. She closed her locker and tucked her hair behind her ears. Elenore noticed they were pierced now. She didn't want to judge CeCe for having pierced ears, and really, she didn't. The only thing that really upset her was that CeCe hadn't told her about it.

"I have to go," CeCe said. "I have pre-algebra first period."

"So do I," Elenore said. "We're in the same class. We compared schedules on the last day of school back in June. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah, but I promised Jennifer Strong and Jennifer Thomason that I would sit with them on the first day. They're on the cheerleading team. It's important to network."

"But, CeCe …"

"I'll catch up with you later, Elenore. Maybe in English?"

"But …"

"I'll see you later."

And so, CeCe walked down the hallway, with little regard for the lonely Princess Leia she'd left behind. For a moment, Elenore had lost all of her hope. For a moment, she wished that CeCe had never comforted her on that Halloween back in '77. Maybe then, she wouldn't be feeling so heartbroken now.

"Elenore?"

She turned around and looked for a speaker behind that unfamiliar voice. When she finally found the speaker, she was stunned. It had only been a few months, and now, John Webber, shrimp extraordinaire, was probably six feet tall. His teeth were still crooked, his hair was still a mess, and his wardrobe was just shy of a complete travesty. But if you squinted at him – this new and improved version of him – John Webber was almost cute.

"Oh, hi, John," Elenore said. "You look different. I almost didn't recognize you."

"That's what I've been hearing all morning," John said. "I sound different, too."

"Man's voice."

"Sure is."

They were quiet for a moment. Elenore, always uncomfortable with the silence, decided to speak up.

"Um, so, what's your first class of the day?" she asked. "Something smart?"

John nodded.

"Algebra," he said. "I'm a full year ahead in math."

That wasn't a surprise. It was only the first day of eighth grade, and everyone knew that John Webber was on the fast track to graduate valedictorian of their high school class in 1985.

"Cool," Elenore said. "I'm pretty much a full year behind, but who's counting?"

"Not you. Especially not if you're a full year behind in math. Because … you know. Numbers."

Elenore almost laughed. Poor John. He might have slowly been coming into some kind of cuteness, but he would always be that awkward little shrimp on the inside.

"Listen, I know I probably shouldn't say anything," he said. "But I sort of heard your little skiff with CeCe just a minute ago, and I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Elenore's face turned white with sickness and anger. She wasn't mad at John for having heard their conversation. Anyone could have heard it. She was mad at CeCe for her need to have the conversation in the first place. Why couldn't she have just accepted Elenore the way she was, like Elenore would have done for her and her new lipstick and pierced ears that she never bothered to even tell her about? Weren't they supposed to be best friends? Why was Elenore on the outside of her best friend's changes?

"Well, thanks," she finally muttered.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you need to change anything," John said. "I've known you in classes for a long time, and I think you're pretty cool exactly how you are."

Elenore almost blushed now. She didn't think John Webber was physically capable of talking to a girl at all, much less in the way he was talking to her. Maybe his transition to _man voice _had really helped him.

"Well, thank you," Elenore said. She meant it this time.

"And I don't think there's anything wrong with liking _Star Wars_, either. I like _Star Wars_. I don't plan on changing that for anybody, even if my best friend decided to try out for the cheerleading team. Of course, that would be almost impossible, considering I don't have a best friend … or even any friends to begin with … but I'm sure you take my meaning. You're smart."

"I appreciate it, John. Really I do."

"I'm glad. Because I mean it. Hey, which lunch period do you have?"

"Ugh, the worst. My lunch splits my fourth period down the middle."

"I've got the split lunch, too! If you don't know anybody in that lunch hour you'd rather sit with today …"

Elenore was nervous about the thought. John had always been perfectly nice, but he was painfully geeky. If CeCe thought Elenore was too into her nerd stuff, she'd clearly never been anywhere near John Webber. The rumor was that he had a display case for his comic books and action figures. How could Elenore Winston, daughter of the notorious Dallas Winston and Lucy Bennet, who'd beaten the tar out of a Nixon supporter when she was only thirteen, be seen with a guy like that?

Because he seemed to be the only person anymore who was offering.

John must have noticed her hesitance. He cocked his head to one side and smirked. Elenore was surprised – more than surprised. John Webber almost looked like an entirely different person, and she was ready for it.

"'Come on,'" John said. "'Sometimes, you think I'm alright.'"

The grin on Elenore's face could have split her entire head open. She knew exactly what to say (and exactly where she'd be sitting at lunch that day and from all the days of her secondary education henceforth).

"'Occasionally. Maybe.'"

And from then on, Elenore Winston was never alone at lunchtime. She was never left hanging in the middle of a good _Star Wars _bit. She had the best person by her side, and she wouldn't give up her friend for anything. She was hopeful they'd be friends for as long as they lived.

* * *

_1983_

On June 10, 1983, Elenore Winston realized she couldn't be _just friends _with John Webber anymore.

In perfect honesty, she'd known that since they started the ninth grade, and she saw him change his shirt for a game in his gym class. From then on, she hadn't been able to shake him from her head. It didn't help that in the years since they'd developed a friendship (a _best friendship_, as they were both almost immediately willing to call it), John had gone from "sort of cute" to "full blown cute." His jaw was sharp, and his arms were fit. He looked like the kind of guy that any girl would dream of going to the prom with, but they knew he was off limits by the time the junior prom rolled around. John Webber didn't go anywhere without Elenore Winston. If only he knew she spent all this time wishing for him to fall in love with her, too.

She mentioned something about her secret pining for John to her father one day. He looked up at her and glared.

"You're just gonna wait until this dork asks you on a date?" he asked. "I'm gonna tell ya one thing and one thing only, Elenore. He ain't gonna ask you."

"Is that because he doesn't like me?" Elenore asked, slightly panicked.

"Naw, he's fuckin' crazy about you. Me and your mom … we've been able to tell since ya first started bringin' him around at the start-a eighth grade. But I know that kid. He's a Pony."

"A what?"

"A Pony. Hey, Bennet, you remember how fuckin' long it took Pony to ask Carrie Shepard on a real date, man?"

Lucy exaggeratedly rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Elenore, it was _excruciating_," Lucy said. "We'd known for years that they were in love with each other, even before they were ready. But for years _after _they'd been ready, Pony just kept her in this perpetual dance. It was awful for everyone involved, including all of us."

"But what does that have to do with John?" Elenore asked.

"It means John Webber's just as scared and nervous as Ponyboy Curtis," Dally said. "Both of 'em are good-lookin' kids, but they ain't got a clue 'cause they'd rather sit around and read books or talk about space battles. They think it makes 'em ugly."

"John's not ugly."

"He _knows,_ Elenore," Lucy said. "You're not listening to him."

"That's right," Dally said. "Look, your friend John's got some idea in his head that he ain't worth goin' out with a girl, 'specially not a girl as pretty and smart as you. If you like him, and you wanna date him, you gotta be the one to make the move."

Elenore frowned. She was sixteen years old, which felt like the right time to fall in love. It was about the age that all of her parents' friends found the loves of _their _lives. Sadie and Johnny had started going together shortly before they turned seventeen; same with Jane and Soda. Her own parents hadn't been much older when they realized they were crazy about each other. They'd gotten together and stayed together on her mother's eighteenth birthday (all the times Elenore had heard _that _story, though Johnny's sister Lilly told it much differently than either of her parents were willing to). She was beginning to feel old. She was beginning to feel like if she didn't convince John to love her now, then no one ever would.

A lot of that anxiety was compounded by the fact that she was so much different than her parents had been when they were sixteen. When her father was sixteen, he got into a different brawl every night. He'd been to jail more times than Elenore could count on her fingers by that age, and though he didn't go after all of them, there were dozens of girls who wanted him badly. He was feared and respected by everyone in the old neighborhood, except for her mother, the one person who could match him in toughness and wit. At sixteen, Lucy Bennet had only been arrested once (three years earlier), but the arrest had been cooler than any of her dad's brushes with the law: She'd beaten the hell out of a kid in junior high for supporting a corrupt presidential candidate. Lucy had always been a cool kind of activist, and she was smarter than anyone Elenore had ever met. By the age of sixteen, Lucy had made her way through all of the seminal English novels and was working her way through some of the more obscure texts, like _The Professor _and _The Secret Agent_. Elenore wasn't anything like that. She did well in school, and she was a good reader like her mother. She'd inherited a silver tongue from both of her parents, but unlike the pair of them, she hardly ever used her wit. She was too afraid. The thing Patty had said to her in fourth grade about not saying good things about yourself had stuck, no matter how badly her father wanted her to believe otherwise. The only time Elenore ever felt truly hopeful was when she was with John, and she played his Princess Leia.

But then she would remember why she wasn't as cool or as interesting as her parents had been when they were sixteen. They'd had a bunch of good friends, and they went out and _talked _with them. Since The Great CeCe Exodus of 1980, all Elenore had was John – John and his Kenner action figures. They had a great time making John's Kenner toys talk and writing elaborate soap operas about them (In fact, that winter, they'd started a storyline wherein the Princess Leia action figure discovered she and Luke were _actually _brother and sister; when they saw _Return of the Jedi _at the end of May, they were shocked they'd been right.), but was that really how _Dallas Winston's only daughter _was supposed to behave? Wasn't she supposed to be out kicking ass and taking names, like she used to before the space opera had neutered her? Why didn't she feel worse about it? She felt bad that she didn't want to be different when she knew so many people looked at her and thought, "How pathetic. And she doesn't even kiss the boy she sits with at lunch!"

She sighed. Lucy looked at her with (rare) kind eyes.

"Look, honey, that doesn't mean John doesn't like you that way," Lucy said. "Your dad and I are pretty confident he does."

"If he didn't, he'd be fuckin' nuts," Dally added.

"What he said. We just mean that he's a little slow going. But you're not! You're Elenore Winston! If you want something, you can make it happen. That's why you've gone as Princess Leia for every Halloween since you were ten."

Elenore exhaled. Perhaps that was the problem.

"Well, maybe I'll say something tonight," Elenore said. "John and I are going to see _Return of the Jedi_."

"Again?" Dally asked. "God, Elenore. It's the worst of the three! Those fuckin' demented teddy bears!"

"They're called _Ewoks_, Dad," Elenore said and then immediately regretted how dorky she sounded in front of _Dallas Winston_. "If you'd stayed to watch the credits, you'd know that. Instead, you ducked out before they could even burn Vader's suit."

Lucy and Dally looked at each other like they knew something, and Elenore wondered what it was. She figured she wouldn't ask. She wasn't cool enough to be privy to a conversation between _Lucy and Dally_.

"Just 'cause you know what they're called don't mean you think they're cool," Dally said. "Do ya?"

"No, but they love Princess Leia. And I feel like as Princess Leia's biggest fan, it's my job to redeem their horribleness."

"You know she ain't real, right? And she doesn't give a shit whether or not you like those fuckin' bears."

"_Ewoks_."

"You're not answering my question. At least, you're not answering it in the way I hoped ya would."

Elenore looked down into her lap. Lucy rubbed her daughter's shoulder with that rare affection once again.

"Now, Elenore," she said. "Your dad's just giving you a hard time. You know he likes to see _Star Wars _movies with you. Don't you, Dally?"

"Sure. 'S long 's I get to be with you, kid."

Elenore almost smiled. Suddenly, their buzzer dinged.

"That'll be John," Elenore said. "Better go downstairs and meet him."

"Are you going to come back up?" Lucy said.

"Of course we are. I told John you were making chicken biscuits for dinner. He'd never miss out on chicken biscuits even if we are getting popcorn at the theater."

"I'll make him a plate, then."

Elenore went downstairs and found John, who stood at the door in his blue _Return of the Jedi _t-shirt. He'd gotten it at the premiere of the movie a few weeks earlier and had worn it to all their viewings since then. They'd been a total of ten times – three times on opening day. Once, in the middle of their fourth viewing, their hands had touched in the popcorn they were sharing. Throughout the entire scene where the Ewoks (who really were just demented teddy bears, as Dally had pointed out) thought Threepio was their god, they'd just sort of … left them there. It was the first time in her whole life that Elenore had felt pretty – well, the first time since Patty from fourth grade told her that she had no right to say that about herself. Since then, she'd forgotten how. John was helping her to remember.

"Hey," she said. "My mom's making you …"

But John didn't say anything. Instead, he picked Elenore up by the waist, twirled her around in his arms, and kissed her. It was Elenore's first kiss (and John's, too, as she'd assume and later find out for certain). It was her first kiss, and it had gone down exactly like that kiss between Han and Leia when Leia rescues Han and Luke from the Ewoks' almost-feast. She was thrilled, but she was even more thrilled that he'd done it that way on purpose. John Webber _got _Elenore Winston in a way she only felt gotten by her parents.

"What?" Elenore finally said. "Were you … were you planning on doing that the whole time?"

"I don't know," John said. "I think I'd been thinking about it since I saw Han do it."

"And you did it because Han did or because you wanted to? Like … you wanted to kiss …"

"You?"

"Yeah. Me."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

"Yeah, I wanted to kiss you. Dammit, Elenore. Of course I wanted to kiss you. Why wouldn't I? You're so funny and smart … and pretty. And you're my best friend, so you know too much about me to find me disgusting."

"I'm numb to your disgustingness."

"Exactly! This is not romantic."

"A far cry from."

"Look, I never really made a move on you before. I know that. So, if this is too out of left field for you, I'm sorry. But I just couldn't …"

And so, with the spirit of _Lucy Bennet _and _Dallas Winston_ coursing through her veins, Elenore went in for the kill. She kissed John with all her might and without her hands, just like Leia kissed Han in _The Empire Strikes Back _before he was frozen in carbonite. When they broke apart, it was clear that John had understood.

"You're incredible," he said.

"I know," Elenore said.

It wasn't _I love you_, but it didn't need to be. Elenore had known that John loved her since the first day of eighth grade. He'd say it in his own time. She knew he would. When she kissed him again, she was hopeful. Finally. She felt like the rightful daughter of bad asses. Finally. She could stop feeling like an embarrassment to them. It was a good feeling. She had the suspicion that it might last a very long time. After all, Lucy Bennet and Dallas Winston were forever. Han and Leia were forever now. Why shouldn't the same be said for Elenore Winston and John Webber?

As they split another bucket of popcorn that evening, Elenore had no reason to believe anything else. She only had hope.

* * *

_1999_

On May 19, 1999, Elenore Winston found herself sorely disappointed.

She knew _The Phantom Menace _wasn't going to be any good. The trailer looked terrible, what with its weird Gonzo-like creatures and refusal to commit to any sort of storyline. The film was even worse. She was sorry she'd taken Veronica to the theater to see it.

Then again, she was never sorry to spend a day with Veronica, her four-year-old daughter. She'd been born shortly after Elenore graduated from law school, and she was the best thing about being alive. Veronica was as cunning as her grandfather, as loquacious as her grandmother, and as hopeful as her mother (on a good day). She looked quite like Elenore (which meant she looked quite like Lucy) with one notable exception. Where Elenore and Lucy's eyes were a striking shade of dark blue, Veronica's eyes were lighter. In some places, they looked almost green.

But Veronica was hope. She was hope for a bright future and a future filled with stars. She'd been so excited to see the new _Star Wars _movie with her mother that day.

"It'll be just like if I knew you when you were little, Mommy!" she said as they waited in line for popcorn. "It'll be like I was there the whole time!"

"You're absolutely right," Elenore said.

"Tell ya what, Bug," Dally said (Despite his distaste for space battles, he wouldn't have missed this day for the world.). "If you'd been there when I was seein' these movies with your mom when she was a kid, it'd have been an even better time."

"That's right," Elenore said.

"Things are better now that we got you, Veronica," a new voice said.

Veronica turned around and clapped her hands together with glee when she saw that Ponyboy was standing behind her.

"Pony!" she said. "I forgot you were gonna be here!"

"Surprise," he said. "Carrie couldn't make it, but she told me to tell ya she loves ya."

"Tell her I love her back."

"Will do, kid. Hey, you want one of those frozen things?"

"Only of course."

Veronica and Ponyboy chatted excitedly about what they were most looking forward to in the new _Star Wars _movie. Regrettably, Veronica didn't understand the concept of a prequel film, and she was going to be sorely disappointed when she realized there was no Princess Leia. Maybe she'd like this "Queen Amidala" character better. Elenore held out no such hope.

Dally touched his daughter's arm to get her attention.

"Hey," he said. "Is John comin' today?"

Elenore nodded.

"He should be here right when the trailers start," she said. "He had a little trouble negotiating his schedule, but we're in the clear. Mostly."

She sighed to herself. John was the biggest reason she felt like she'd lost all hope that day. After their first _Return of the Jedi _kiss during the summer between tenth and eleventh grade, Elenore and John stayed together through the rest of high school. They stayed together through college at NYU, where they'd both majored in English. But the year after college – the year they both finally worked up the nerve to have sex for the first time – that was when things had gone differently than Elenore would have hoped. Shortly after their first time, when Elenore tried to kiss John again, he wouldn't let her. He sat her down. He said he had something to tell her. He loved her more than he'd ever loved anybody, but it wasn't until recently he'd figured out how. He didn't want to be her boyfriend. He didn't want to be _any _woman's boyfriend.

"Elenore," John had said. "I'm gay."

And Elenore had accepted John with open arms (though open differently than they'd been for more than a decade already). Of course she did. She loved John no matter what, and he'd been her best friend before he was anything else. She supported him. She loved him. She couldn't imagine a life without him in it. But that didn't change the fact that when she was all alone at night, she would cry because John would never love her in the way she always hoped he would. She used to be hopeful that they would stay together all of their lives. And while she wasn't wrong, it still felt … there was no name – no label Elenore could put on her feelings that didn't make her feel like a bigot in front of herself.

She'd called Katie Mathews after she learned the truth about John and cried and cried and cried. Katie said she understood – that she wasn't being homophobic by being sad that she and John wouldn't be together like that. Feelings were feelings, but if she could find it in her heart to be a friend, she should. John was going through a lot, Katie said. In fact, she promised it.

That was years before _The Phantom Menace_. Most days, Elenore was content to be a single mother. She was content to have John in her life as her best friend – more than content. But there was always a part of her that wondered if she and John would have been together in another life. There was always a part of her that wondered what Veronica would look like if she were John Webber's daughter and not someone else's.

Elenore never told anyone who Veronica's father was. She promised everyone in her life that it was unimportant. But that wasn't true. She just didn't want her father to go full _Dallas Winston _and kill the guy. And she knew if he ever found out the truth – that Elenore had gotten pregnant by someone who had a wife at home – her father would do just that.

After the disappointing movie and Veronica's deep confusion as to why Princess Leia wasn't there and why they would ever show us Darth Vader as a little kid, the family went back to Lucy and Dally's place. Lucy put in a call for a pizza, which Veronica was thrilled about. She took John back to her playroom at her grandparents' house so that they could make up scenes about "the old, _good _movies" with her action figures (the ones that had been Elenore's when she was a bit too old to be playing with toys). Elenore sat on the couch and thumbed through a magazine.

"Elenore?"

She looked up. Her father was standing over her.

"Oh," she said. "Hey, Dad."

"Don't look so fuckin' surprised to see me, man," he said and took a seat next to her. "It's my house."

"Technically, it's an apartment."

"Same kinda thing."

"Definitely not. What Darry and Lynnie live in back in Oklahoma? House. This? This is an apartment, my friend."

"I ain't your friend. I'm your father."

"No. You're my Daddy-Wan Kenobi."

"That's right. And don't you fuckin' forget it."

Elenore rested her head on her father's shoulder. She was thirty-two years old, and she was still comforted by cuddles from her parents. She really did age at all the wrong speeds.

"Veronica and John sure have a good time when they get together," Dally said.

"Yeah," Elenore said. "She loves him. He's my best friend. It only makes sense that he's one of her best friends, too."

"She's beyond her years."

"No. John's behind his."

Dally laughed and held Elenore tighter. She was one of three people in the world who understood how affectionate he could be when he wanted to be.

"Look, I know you're all up in arms about not tellin' nobody who her old man is …"

"She doesn't have an 'old man,' Dad. She has you. You're enough for her."

"But I'm old. Don't she need somebody a little younger?"

"She has me."

"You don't think she needs a daddy?"

"You didn't."

Dally sighed. He hoped his daughter would take his meaning.

"I just want Veronica to be happy," he said. "She's got my blood in her, so she's already kinda screwed."

"Veronica is plenty happy."

"Mmm. And if I really needed to know who her father is …"

"I would tell you. But since you don't need to know, I'm keeping it to myself."

Dally nodded.

"Right," he said. "Well, I trust you, kid."

"Good."

They were quiet for a moment, but Elenore knew that her father wasn't done.

"Can you at least answer one question?"

"Dad …"

"It ain't a bad one. I just wanna know one thing. This guy … did ya love him?"

Elenore sighed. All the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. She knew it was coming, and yet, she dreaded it. The word _love _sounded so foreign out of Dallas Winston's mouth. He'd only recently told Elenore he loved her for the first time a few months earlier. It was going to take some getting used to. Of course, this wasn't the setting Elenore would have preferred he use it in.

"I don't really know how to answer that," Elenore said.

"So, no."

"Dad."

"Naw, man, it's OK. I get it. Can't love everybody ya screw. I sure as hell didn't."

Elenore looked at him like she knew that was a lie. It was.

"Well, answer me this, then," he said.

"Dad."

"No, this one's easier. I'm sorry about before. Was he … was he at least nice to ya? Did he make ya feel like ya counted?"

Elenore nodded. For the time it took to conceive Veronica, yes. The guy made her feel like she counted. Dally looked almost relieved.

"Well, good, I guess," he said. "Didn't like to picture ya with some bum."

Another pause. Then, Dally.

"Did you ever love anybody?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm your father. You can talk to me about this shit 's long 's you promise never to tell nobody I was interested."

Elenore rolled her eyes in good nature.

"No," she said. "I don't think I ever loved anybody. Well. I don't think I ever loved anybody … except for John."

That broke both of their hearts. Dally drew his daughter in closer. At this point, he didn't give a shit who saw him. Elenore needed love, and she needed it from her old man.

"I'm sorry that didn't work out the way we thought," Dally said. His voice was so quiet … so calm. It almost surprised Elenore with its peacefulness.

"I'm sorry it couldn't," Elenore said. "And I know that makes me sound bigoted and dirty. I know it does, no matter what Katie Mathews tries to tell me about what homophobia 'really' looks like. I know that the way I sometimes wish John could have married me is wrong and bad, and I should be punished for it."

"Elenore, no."

"Elenore, yes. I know I'm full of shit. But I can't help it. I think about all the time I've spent with John since we were thirteen years old. That's almost twenty years of love. And when I think about how John was the only person except for you and Mom who got me … who didn't think I was _less than _because I wasn't a badass motherfucker like the two of you … I think about how fucking _scared _I am that it'll never happen again. I'm scared that I won't feel _understood _or _enjoyed _by anyone else ever again. It's horrible, Dad. And it's not all the time, but when it comes on, it comes on hard."

She started to cry, and her father held her even tighter. She wasn't sure that was even possible.

"I'm gonna let you cry for a minute more," Dally said. "But then you're gonna wipe those fuckin' tears and start actin' like your parents are Dallas Winston and Lucy Bennet, dammit."

"But you always said not for me to compare myself to you and Mom."

"Right. But you're too fuckin' strong to sit here and cry. You're gonna wipe your fuckin' eyes and know who you are. 'Cause I know you. You're my daughter, and you're pretty great. Better than that, even. They ain't even made a word for how great y'are."

Elenore had already stopped crying.

"I don't know what things are gonna look like for you down the line, kid," Dally said. "But I do know that you got a pretty great life. You got me and your mom. You got Veronica. Hell, you even got John Webber, if not the way ya thought ya would when you was just kids. You ain't gonna curl up into some stupid fuckin' ball and act like you ain't worth shit, 'cause you know that ain't true. You're worth a lot. Look again at your fuckin' yearly pay if ya got any doubt.

That made Elenore laugh. Her dad was always good at that.

"You ain't givin' up hope on me, Elenore. You ain't givin' up hope on yourself. Ya gotta stay hopeful. Like Princess Leia in that movie we saw earlier."

"Dad."

"What?"

"Princess Leia wasn't in that movie."

"Yes, she was. She had the red dress and the white face."

"Racist."

"Ya know what I mean. She was in the movie. I fuckin' saw it. I sat through that fuckin' space race. I know what I saw."

"Dad, that was Queen Amidala."

"Never heard that name before. Why 'm I only hearin' it now?"

"Because this is a new _Star Wars _movie with new _Star Wars _characters."

"Huh. Really wasn't Princess Leia?"

"Really wasn't. Were you actually not listening the entire time we were in the theater?"

"Whatever, Elenore. It's all fuckin' garbage."

"You're right. It absolutely is."

But one thing wasn't garbage. Elenore Winston was, before and after anything else, Dallas Winston's daughter. She was too tough to sit around and cry like a disappointed fool. She needed to make something work. She needed to make something happen.

She went into Veronica's playroom, seized one of the Princess Leia figures, and got to work.

* * *

_2017_

On October 31, 2017, Elenore Winston arranged a Halloween party at the firm.

She'd just been made partner; she was allowed to get away with the fun stuff now. It was all settled. They would bring in pizzas and candy and drinks with the most sugar. They would play "Monster Mash" on a loop all day long. They would greet each other with "Boo!" when they walked through the door. Most of all, everyone in the office was _required _to wear a costume.

Elenore knew exactly what she'd wear.

"What do you think, Veronica?" she asked before she left for work that morning. "Is it a good look, or is it tacky?"

"I'd say it's a great look," Veronica said. She was working on her master's degree and still living in Elenore's apartment (much to Elenore's delight).

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Mom, I might even say it's timeless."

Elenore grinned. She looked in the mirror before she took off. So much had changed since she was a ten-year-old girl in a homemade white dress. She'd fallen in love and maintained the same _best friendship _for almost forty years. She'd raised a beautiful and intelligent daughter in Veronica – a beautiful, intelligent, _tough _daughter who took her middle name (Dallas) to heart. She'd graduated from NYU and then Columbia Law. She'd made partner at the firm after fifteen years of working in the same place (and being a woman). She'd kept up good relationships with her badass mom and her badder ass dad. She'd loved her family. She'd lost her family. Her heart still clenched when she remembered it was now less than two months away from the first anniversary of her godfather, Soda's, death. But through it all, she'd managed to stay hopeful, just like her father had commanded of her that day she sobbed on his couch because she felt isolated. Elenore Winston was no crybaby. She was no pit of despair. She was a princess _and _a senator.

When she walked through the door, everyone who saw her greeted her with the expected "Boo!" But after their initial Halloween greeting, they took some time to compliment her on her costume.

"Great look," one of the newer hires said. "Did you buy it from the Halloween aisle at Target?"

"Actually, my mom and I sat down to make it," Elenore said. "We did it in honor of the Princess Leia costume she made for me forty years ago. I can't exactly fit into that one now, of course. So we tried again."

"That's wonderful. You look great, Elenore."

"Thanks."

She found her way into her office and closed the door. With a smile on her face, she looked around at all the pictures she had on her walls and on her bookshelves. There was one picture for every year Veronica had been alive, including one where she, herself, was dressed in the very same Princess Leia costume Lucy had made for her back in '77. Lucy had been right (and Dally had been right to say that she was always right). Even if Elenore was an intelligent and precocious ten-year-old, there were just some things she couldn't understand because she hadn't been alive long enough to understand them. Feeling hopeful didn't come from a book. It came from getting up in the morning and putting your Princess Leia face on. It came from treating everyday like the galaxy was in grave peril, and you and your Rebellion were the only things that could save it.

It was then that she knew she needed to make a phone call.

"Hello?" the familiar gravelly voice on the other end answered.

"Hey, Dad," Elenore said.

"What's up, kid? Do you need me to come down? Kids pickin' on you?"

"Dad, this is a law firm in Manhattan. There are no kids."

"You get to be as old as me, everybody starts lookin' like a kid."

"You sound like Yoda when he died to avoid confrontation with Luke in _Return of the Jedi_."

"Kid, you might as well have been speakin' fuckin' Chinese to me just now."

"That's not entirely accurate. China is a massive country, and various languages and dialects …"

"Elenore. Whatever the chase is, I need ya to cut to it. Thank you."

Elenore exhaled. She couldn't have imagined a better father. If there was one thing Dallas Winston was great at, it was making sure that his daughter with all the big feelings she wished she didn't have could stay on target.

"I remembered something today when I walked into the Halloween party with my new Leia costume on," she said.

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"I remember this one time when I was twelve. It was the summertime – between '77 _Star Wars _and _The Empire Strikes Back_ because that's how I measure time. Even now. To this day. Anyway, I was twelve, and I was supposed to go to the movies with my friend CeCe. I'm sure you don't remember her. She eventually ditched me to wear makeup because apparently, you can't like _Star Wars _and wear makeup. I bet it was a big bite out of her ass when she discovered how asinine that is. Well, it was 1979, and even though I didn't lose CeCe all the way until eighth grade started in 1980, she was already starting to drift away from me, like Pangaea, which I'd just learned about in geography class during the school year. It was the question I got right during our review game before the test the next day. But CeCe and I were supposed to see _The Muppet Movie _because we loved _The Muppet Show _so much, and that was before Mark Hamill was ever on it. I was all ready to go with my Kermit the Frog t-shirt, and then the phone rang. It was CeCe. And she was going to Macy's to hang out and drink sodas with some boys we sort of knew from our earth science class. I acted like it was completely cool and that we could see _The Muppet Movie _another time, but I knew we wouldn't. CeCe wasn't the same best friend she used to be, and I'd have to see Kermit by myself.

"I went into my room and I cried really, really hard. But I was really, really quiet because I didn't want you or Mom to hear me and think that I wasn't as tough and cool as you were, especially by the time you were both twelve years old. I mean, at that point, you'd been arrested more than ten times, and Mom was just a year out from her one and only aggravated assault. I didn't want you to think I was a loser or that I wasn't tough enough to call myself Elenore Winston, so I tried to muffle my crying. Apparently, I was unsuccessful, because you came into my room. You told me to put on my shoes. I asked you where we were going, and you didn't say anything. You just told me to put on my shoes and follow you. And you better believe that you were already so, so much more than the no-count hood you think you were before Sadie and Soda dared you and Mom to get married because if you'd been anyone but my dad, I wouldn't have followed you. You were the one guy I trusted all the time. That's nothing to sneeze at, you know.

"So, I followed you. And you took me down to the movie theater. You snuck me in, just like we used to when I was ten. You bought me the biggest cup of Coke they had at the theater at the time, which was way more manageable and way less terrifying than the miniature trashcans they offer you at the megaplexes today. And before I could even thank you for it, you said, 'Sometimes, you just need a good drink.' And then we were both quiet. And you sat through the entire _Muppet Movie _with me. And from that one stupid little day on, I don't think I ever forgot how to be hopeful. I pretended like I did, but I couldn't, really. Because I had you for my dad, and you wouldn't let me. You always made me see myself as hopeful and tough, and I'm standing here in my Princess Leia costume at the age of fifty. And I feel hopeful and tough even though I know I look like a little kid. It doesn't matter. You taught me how much it doesn't matter.

"And I just don't think I ever said thank you."

There was silence on the phone, but Elenore could still hear Dally's breathing. Finally, he spoke.

"You're welcome, Elenore."

* * *

**Well, I don't really know what that was. I just know it poured out of me. I know it's very focused on non-canon characters (Pony shows up once! Soda's name is dropped in, but only after he's been dead for ten months!), but Elenore means a lot to me. I'm so interested in her relationship with Dally, especially as I try to preserve his characterization while also developing him into the kind of guy who'd actually love his daughter. It's a challenge, but I think it's one I'm up for tackling.**

**Hinton owns **_**The Outsiders**_**. Disney owns **_**Star Wars**_**, which still feels wrong to say. There's dialogue from **_**The Empire Strikes Back **_**in here, which was written by Lawrence Kasdan and Leigh Brackett (but really Kasdan). I own this pair of socks with the **_**Millennium Falcon **_**on it, which I'm confident gave me the strength to power through this story in two days.**


End file.
